


Who You Were

by Cyan (vehicroids)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Character Study, F/M, POV Second Person, Tales of Berseria Spoilers, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 02:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17520626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehicroids/pseuds/Cyan
Summary: No matter how much you try to shake off the past, it always seems to come back for you.





	Who You Were

You wake up.

When you look around, you don't recognise where you are. You don't know anything. You're standing at a dragon's feet, and he's calling you by a name you don't recognise. You blink up at him and step back, and he tells you not to be afraid. His voice is more gentle than you thought it would be, smooth like honey. You expect him to take you between his teeth, but he doesn't.

He watches you curiously, white eyes scanning your body. You want to run, and yet you don't. There's something about him that tells you to stay, so you do, holding your hands over your skirt. You're shaking a little. He offers you his name - Maotelus - but you don't have one to offer him in exchange. Why can't you remember anything?

You stare up at Maotelus, and you feel so tiny beside him. His scales are shiny and white - pure, you realise. He must have been resting here for millennia before you came along. Yet there's a touch of youth still left in him, his voice still high. It's all so jarring.

“I could give you a name, if you'd like,” he offers, and you nod.

He hums, a low growl of a sound as he thinks. He tries to smile at you, but it's all teeth, and it makes your stomach churn. You are terrified and lost. You know, somehow, that dragons are to be feared. You know that his malevolence should be infecting you. Yet you feel nothing from him. Maotelus was strangely  _ good _ .

“Lailah?” he asks, and you look up at him. “Lailah it is.”

Your name is Lailah. This is the only knowledge you have of yourself.

Maotelus can fill in a couple of blanks for you. You are a special seraph, one born from the ashes of another. She was a dragon, so Maotelus says, but you don't want to know the rest. Whoever she was, you aren't her. There is really only one thing on your mind.

“Why was I reborn? If I was a dragon, why would you choose me?”

Your voice is unsteady, the sound behaving like a baby deer standing for the first time. You clutch your hand to your chest. You're still scared, but less so than before. Maotelus lets out a laugh, but you're certain he isn't trying to mock you.

“It's a favour for a friend,” he says.

He tells you who, but the name means nothing to you. It has a Z in it, and that will be your only clue in the centuries to come. You nod anyway, like it all made sense. It didn't. None of it did.

“Everyone deserves a second chance, and that includes you. I’ve chosen you for something important.”

“I'm afraid I still don't understand,” you say, your voice still uneven.

“You have the power to wield the silver flame, which holds the power to purify malevolence.”

This catches your interest. You want to purify malevolence. You want to help people. You know that this is your place. You take a step closer to him.

“Please, tell me how,” you say.

He's smiling again, you think, but the teeth set you on edge. “Make a pact with me, and I'll grant you my powers.”

You are Lailah, you are Fethmus Mioma, and you are a servant of Maotelus.

***

You come to realise you aren't the only one. While fire burns malevolence, water washes it away, wind whisks it away, and earth… Earth punches the malevolence, you think. You're not sure on the logistics. You have to admit that you're glad you're not the only prime lord, and that the duty is not yours alone. Yet still, you don't wish this on anyone else.

Your first Shepherd is called Sera. She's reckless, idealistic, but you love her. She's young, inexperienced, but she's strong. You know she will go far.

Your journey takes you back to Highland. There's something about Highland that feels brighter than Rolance. The flowers are more colourful, and the air feels cleaner. This feels more like home to you.

Something swoops overhead with a loud cry, and you stop. Sera is pulling your arm, pointing at the sky.

“A- a dragon! Lailah, it's a dragon!”

It's flying towards Rayfalke Spiricest. It doesn't look fully formed yet, likely still a drake, but it's still dangerous. It will still kill you. But Sera is is still holding your arm, tugging hard, trying to pull you to the mountain.

“Sera, we mustn't!” you tell her, but you know she's not listening. “Even if it's a drake, it's still-”

“How can we purify the world if we can't start with what's around us?!”

For some reason, that sounds logical to you, and you follow her to Rayfalke. You follow her up the mountain path, past the earth seraph who tries to warn you away. It's a half hearted attempt, but Sera isn't listening anyway. You offer your apologies, but the seraph shrugs them off. Perhaps apathy is how she remains unaffected by this drake's domain, but you don't know for sure.

At the top of the mountain, you see it. It's only a drake, but it doesn't have long before it turns into a dragon, you wager.  With a call of your true name, Sera insists you armitize with her. It's the only way to stand a chance, and you know it. Except you let her take over - she knows more about swords than you do - and she doesn't know what she's doing against a drake. She's swinging the sword wildly. The drake knows what it's doing and, with one blow, you're out cold.

You wake up at the bottom of the mountain, your head pounding. The girl from earlier is kneeling at your side, hand over your head and muttering a healing arte to herself. Her eyes flutter open, and her bright blue eyes narrow at you.

“I told you to stay away from Eizen,” she says.

“I'm sorry.” You frown, then look around. It is only you. “Did Sera…”

“Nope. Sorry.”

Your first Shepherd dies at the hands of a dragon. At least the earth seraph - who introduces herself as Edna - helps you bury her body. You hope Sera finds peace.

You return to Maotelus, heartbroken, but he soothes you. You'll pick yourself up again, you know you will. Right now, you need a friend. Maotelus is glad for the company, even letting you pet his head. He's not a dog, and the rough scales feel strange, but the motion soothes you. You'll stay for a couple of days, then return to Ladylake.

The cycle must continue.

You take a new Shepherd. You take them on their journey. You lead them to their own deaths. You mourn. You keep going because you have to, and not because you want to. This is your duty, after all: you can't quit now, even if you wanted to. You're happy to make this sacrifice over and over again, even if there is only a slim chance that everyone will be saved. You will carry the burden, because you can't leave it to anyone else. This is what you were born for.

Centuries pass, and you lose count of the Shepherds you've lost, but you never forget about them. You loved them all, and still mourn them like they had only just passed. You still carry the burden of their passing even centuries later.

You don't give your previous life much thought, though memories trickle in like droplets. You were a kind woman - you hope. You were still a seraph, but are unsure what kind. There are children, and a man that you loved greatly. You don't know who they are, and you don't think it matters. Who she was is not who you are, and you don't like to dwell on it. There's no use thinking about a past that isn't yours.

The past has a way of coming back to you, whether you like it or not.

It starts with Michael cursing Heldalf, and Zenrus asking you to wait for the future Shepherd and the boy who would be his sub lord. You don't argue: you will wait for Mikleo and Sorey, no matter how long it took. You know who they are almost immediately after you meet them.

Mikleo looks so much like Michael, but you can't say so. Every time the topic shifts to previous Shepherds, to Michael, you have to resist the urge to blurt it all out. Your oath  binds your tongue. Without it, you fear you'll lose the sacred flame. Maotelus is too weak for you to break.

Keeping quiet becomes more and more difficult as time goes on. You're shown a vision of your pact with Michael, and you try not to cry. The Earthen Historia was made specifically to hurt you, and you're near convinced of this. You want to forget. You can't. Just like how you want to forget your past life.

When you meet Zaveid, you realise there's no running from who you were. The world stops around you.

Something about him feels familiar, like going home. You're drawn to him in a way you can't explain. His arrogant smirk, the sparkle in his amber eyes - he was  _ gorgeous _ . Of course, you would never say this out loud: the group had made its opinion on Zaveid.

After your first meeting, you can't stop thinking about him. You tell yourself it's because he's handsome, but you feel like there's something more. This crush doesn't matter to you too much - it's only a crush, you don't have to see him much.

You curse yourself for not squashing these thoughts sooner when you make a pact with him.

Your hands fit perfectly in his large hands. Zaveid's cocky grin has been replaced with something else, a rare moment of seriousness. Those eyes are still bright when they look at you, and for a moment, all you can think of is how handsome he is. You almost flub your lines as you look at him, and it takes a full 30 seconds for you to hear him give his true name.

Fylk Zadehya. You know that name. You just don't know why.

He doesn't stop trying to flirt with you, but he tries with Rose and Edna too. While they may be bothered by it, you aren't, but you keep that to yourself. He calls you Lady Lailah, a nickname that makes your heart flutter. It's silly, and it means nothing, but you can't get enough of your name on his lips.

Zaveid isn't all that genuine in general. His easy smile and casual demeanour are both acts that he has cultivated very well in his centuries. He acts so well that he might have even convinced himself it was his real self. He bears the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.

You have to pull him to one side, just to check up on him. You check up on all your prime lords - they're all your friends. You figure this isn't out of the ordinary. He looks at you curiously before you finally say what's on your mind.

“You mustn't carry your burdens alone,” you tell him.

He laughs, and it's deep and warm, but not genuine. He puts a hand on your back and flashes you that easy smile you've come to distrust.

“What burdens? Look at me. You don't get much freer than old Zaveid!”

He starts to walk away, but you grab him. Normally, you would let this go - Zaveid is Zaveid, after all - but you can't. You don't know what it is, but something is calling for you to reach out to him. This time, you will.

“Zaveid!” There's irritation in your voice, and he stops, looking at you curiously. Truthfully, you don't know why you're irritated. “I wish you could open up, even if only a little. I worry about you.”

The muscles in his arm relax, and that easy smile falls away like dust in the wind. Instead, a deep set frown sat in its place. He turns to face you fully.

“We all have secrets, Lailah,” he says.

“I… I'm aware. Still, I don't want you to feel as though you have to be alone,” you say.

He sighs, then gives you a little smile. This one is genuine, you think. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilt your head questioningly, but say nothing else. He breaks out of your grip, yet he doesn't walk away.

“It's a little stupid,” he grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “It's this girl I used to know. Her name was Theodora.”

That name breaks something in you, like an old wall crumbling in front of you. You know that name but you can't place it, like a distant drip in the back of your mind. You stare up at Zaveid like you're caught in a trap, and he waves his hand over your face.

“You okay, Lailah? You're looking at me like I've just mentioned Maotelus.”

You stand up straight. Maybe you shouldn't ask - you  _ definitely _ shouldn't - but you're curious. You must know.

“Tell me about her.”

He does. She was a good woman, and she and Zaveid had adopted children together. The children had been through so much, and that much malevolence was bound to turn a seraph into a dragon. That's exactly what happened. He tries to laugh, but it's a sad laugh, and it takes everything in you not to hug him. Not right now.

“In the end, Edna's brother had to kill her. Of course, when you kill a dragon, all that malevolence seeps out, and…” Zaveid sighed. “It took a while, but that's how Eizen turned. It got him like a poison.”

You remember Eizen - he was why Sera died. Your hands ball into fists at the memory, but you can't bring yourself to be mad. It feels almost like poetic justice.

Zaveid isn't even looking at you, more looking over you than anything. You want to hold his face and make him look at you, but you don't.

“I'm so sorry,” you say, frowning.

“Nah, nah, I made it weird,” he says, that easy smile back on his lips. “I just thought that… nah, nothing. I'm gonna go check on the kids.”

This time, you don't reach out: you don't have the chance to. You watch Zaveid break up a fight between Mikleo and Edna with an inappropriate comment, and they both turn on him. He laughs at both of them, and you're glad they're here.

Theodora and Zaveid are all you think about for a few days. You don't need to sleep, so you spend your nights dwelling on it. Why? You don't know.

There is a chance that she is you - or rather, you  _ were _ her - a chance you can't deny. You don't know for sure, and there's no way of knowing. Zaveid feels like home in a way you can't explain, and you wonder if he feels the same. No, maybe he sees Theodora when he sees you and wishes you were her. Sometimes you feel like you should tell him, but you're not sure. This is far too complicated.

Maotelus’ words echoed in your head.  _ A favour for a friend _ . That could have been Zaveid, but you can't ask: your oath makes sure of that. There's no roundabout way of asking either. All you can do is wonder. From the way he looks at you, you know he's also wondering. You wish you could give him an answer either way.

You keep wondering, and you feel like the answer is clawing at you, but you simply don't know. You can't remember anything beyond the love you felt in a past life. Whether that love was for Zaveid or another man, you don't know. It's not good to dwell on the past, but you can't help it.

Before, you never wanted to know a single thing about your past. Now, you want to know everything, just on that one, slight chance.

Zaveid is as friendly as ever. He smiles, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. He looks at you in a strange way, like he's trying to figure you out. Other than Maotelus and Michael, there's nothing he doesn't know about you. You're terrible with secrets - that's probably why your oath is powerful.

It takes a lot in you not to fall into him and tell him everything that's on your mind. You could be Theodora, but you don't know. You want to tell him that you wish you were, that perhaps you could get even a fraction of his love. There's no explanation for the longing you feel for him in your heart. Still you refrain, reserved as ever. You are pure. You must remain that way.

It's a while until it's just the two of you again. You grow sick of being trapped in an inn, and Edna has grown sick of your pacing. Rose would be sick of it too if she was awake. Edna doesn't care why you're restless, just that you are, and that you should walk it off. You ask her to come with you, and she refuses. Instead, you're left to wander Marlind by yourself.

You find the bridge and you lean against it, left to your own thoughts. You wish you could silence your head, but you can't. If you hadn't met Zaveid, you wouldn't be wondering. Who you were wouldn't be a question. Maybe you'd be sleeping soundly within Rose right now.

“You look beautiful, standing in the moonlight,” Zaveid says, interrupting your thoughts. “But a frown doesn't suit you. What's on your mind?”

You shake your head. “I'm fine.”

“What was it you told me? Don’t carry your burdens alone?” he says.

You hate that he’s right, because you can’t tell him the truth. Your fingers are neatly woven into each other, looking out into the distance. The town was dark, the only light cast from the stars above. You can’t see Zaveid’s face, but you can see a twinkle in his eye. His hair shimmers in the moonlight, and you see a flash of a wicked grin.

“I did say that,” you say carefully.

You chew on your lip, and you don’t know what to say. You’re both thinking the same thing, and you know that, yet vocalising those thoughts was a mistake. You know it would be. Yet the words still dance on the edge of your tongue, threatening to spill. Maybe it’s best not to acknowledge it, but you can't help yourself.

“I suspect I wasn’t born as a fire seraph,” you say carefully.

It’s less suspicion, and more knowing. He joins you against the bridge, looking out to nothing in particular. He sighs, his shoulders sinking. He knows what you’re going to say, and you don’t know how he’ll take it. It's too late to back down now.

“My past life shouldn’t matter, and for centuries, it didn’t. It has never bothered me before, and yet,” you glance at him, “when I look at you, I feel like I should know. I apologise for making things strange, but it’s all I can think about.”

He rubs the back of his neck, but he doesn’t look at you. “Y’know, ever since I saw you, I’ve been wonderin’, too.”

You can’t say it. Neither of you can, but you both know what the other is trying to say. It’s a secret, kept almost like an oath, dancing on a fine line between saying it and not. You don’t even know how much you can and can’t say.

“My rebirth was a favour for a friend, but I don’t know why,” you say.

Zaveid pauses, then he huffs a laugh. “Hah. I see. Makes a lot of sense, now.”

It answers none of your questions, but at least Zaveid appears amused. He looks at you then, a fond smile gracing his features. You wonder if you'll ever understand Zaveid.

“Lailah, it doesn't matter who you were, right?” his tone is serious, but the smile remains. “You're Lailah now, that's all anyone cares about.”

You press your lips together, fighting back the urge to say what's on your mind. But you say it anyway.

“I've been hoping I was her, because it would be a reason to be closer to you,” you admit so quietly that you're not sure the thought ever left your head.

From the look on Zaveid's face, it did. He puts an arm around your shoulders and more than anything, you want to snuggle into him. You stop yourself. You have no right.

“You might've been here, but you know what? I don't care.” He squeezes you gently, yet you still feel like you might burst. “The past's the past, and I've made my peace with it. All I care about is the future. Our future as a group, and…”

He looks down at you, questioning. You lace your hand with his and smile up at him.

“ _ Ours _ ?” you ask pointedly.

He laughs. “Damn right.”

You laugh with him and settle under his arm.

Now you know who you are. Your name is Lailah. You are a prime lord, a servant of Maotelus. You are strong. And you are in love.

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at second person present tense. It's... strange lmao. My best friend said to me "what if Lailah was a reincarnation of Theodora" and like... you know what? I can see it. Can seraphim be reborn into another seraph? Who knows. Who cares. ToZ/B don't care about their own canon and nor do I
> 
> Come bug me on [Tumblr](http://vehicroids.tumblr.com) || [Twitter](https://twitter.com/vehicroids)


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